


a dance of ice and fire

by openmouthwideeye



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openmouthwideeye/pseuds/openmouthwideeye
Summary: Sun and moon. Fire and water. Jaime and Brienne. Let the battle begin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Coming out of semi-retirement for JB Week '16. Because asoiaf is just begging for a benders AU, yes?
> 
>  
> 
> **Day 1: Honor**

Jaime crashed to the ground with a gasp, air driven from his lungs by a massive ice boulder.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, “did nobody tell you?” His palms sunk into the ice, moving with painstaking slowness, while water bled down his arms to catch on his sweat-soaked tunic. “Earth is that brown, pebbled stuff beneath your feet.”

Brienne grunted. The girl was as talkative as a territorial lizard-lion. Trapped as he was, he couldn’t see worth a damn; at any moment she could drown him in the Trident, and him with no defense but his mouth.

He made use of it now, adding a flow of fire breath to his attack on the ice block. Water trickled over his fingers and ran down his neck. Finally, when he thought his lungs might burst, the ice fractured, spraying him with stinging mist as his hands blazed and took flame. Jaime wasted no time, gathering his feet under him and using the momentum to launch a fireball the size of the Red Messenger at the waterbender’s head. The blazing tail scorched her tunic as she dodged, hem trailing smoke. He took a moment to relish the flames licking up her back, and then he was flat on his, flattened by a crush of water that swallowed their impromptu arena. Debris churned around him, and soon Jaime was spinning too, insides searing as they never had for his father’s sharpest lessons.

Relief came just as swiftly, spitting him onto the muddy bank to gape at the ugly, dripping waterbender.

“Oh!” cried the cause of all this trouble, rushing forward to grab the lizard-lion by the arm. “Brienne, he’s hurt.”

Sansa Stark raised her hands and water swirled from the mud, separating from earth that collapsed into dust at her feet. Starglow wrapped her hands like matching gloves. Sodden as he was, Jaime hadn’t felt the blood trickle down his forehead and catch in his brow. The gash stung suddenly, blood pushing through the fine, blond hairs to drip into his eye.

“See?” Jaime gave Brienne a mocking smile, falling instinctively into a new form. “I knew you were blockheaded enough to be an earthbender.”

He kicked the offending rock at her—there was no guarantee it was the same one that had struck him, but a man could hope. As it skipped from his toe, it caught flame, glowing molten as it soared toward the waterbender’s gut. A jagged spear of ice saved her from a hole through the ribs, and Jaime barked a laugh. His grin sharpened to match her spear.

“Didn’t your water dancing master tell you that bending is supposed to be _graceful_?”

She punched the air in reply, sending ice daggers towards him in a wave as implacable as her scowl. Jaime lunged forward. Brienne twisted her arms into a powerful thrust and—

Froze, staring at him. Jaime stared back, unable to move, mind scrambling to assess this new threat.

“This is _not_ how proper duels are fought.” Sansa stepped between them, embodying her lady mother from head to heel as she crossed her arms to stare down her nose at them.

Jaime grit his teeth, kindling the fire in his blood and radiating it outward. The ice cracked, hissed, melted—but try as he might, Jaime could not move. He channeled his frustration into a hard, hot exhale. A gush of steam licked his face, but before he could take another breath the water rushed up, swallowing his mouth and cheeks and the bridge of his nose. For the first time in his life, Jaime wished for his father’s skill with lightning, or his sister’s implacable wildfire. Some inferno that could burn through water as easily as kindling.

His eyes swept over the scorched earth and fresh mud sinks to find Brienne pleading silently with the Stark girl. Sansa’s fingers were crooked toward him above her folded arms, keeping him firmly encased in his watery cage. She paid him no mind, intent as she was on the hulking water dancer.

 _Water dancers are safe,_ Jaime thought bitterly. _Firebenders are all as mad as the Targaryens._

A bead of sweat trickled down Sansa’s temple, betraying her. Skilled she may be, but she didn't have the big bender's endurance. A few more minutes and . . .

The lizard-lion grunted. “I’m sorry, Sansa.”

 _Her_ head was free. Jaime was mucky water to the bow of his lips. _If I were an earthbender, I’d have them buried in this dreck to their hair_ , he thought. He focused his energy on evaporating his prison, seeking the delicate balance between freedom and boiling himself alive.

A flush overtook Brienne's pale skin, crawling up her neck like tongues of fire. He wondered if it was because of Sansa’s disappointed stare, or the frost clinging to her collarbone like a gown. Surely she could crack that ice like glass on stone.

“I let him goad me,” she continued, sounding ashamed, “and I forgot my promise to your mother. She sent us to find you, to bring you safely back to Riverrun.”

Sansa pinked. In the next instant the water beast was free, rubbing the aches from her arms.

“I’m sorry, too,” Sansa said. “I only wanted to practice making ice flowers. I didn’t think anyone would notice I was gone.”

Brienne shifted uncomfortably, seeming to feel Jaime’s eyes on her. “How did you escape the castle?” she asked the girl.

Sansa hesitated. Water churned against Jaime’s skin, betraying her remorse.

“There’s a hidden Water Gate,” she admitted at last. “Arya showed me.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, and the waterline receded like the tides. This time, it did not crash back to cover his mouth.

“I’m sure you’re _drowning_ in guilt for acting so childish,” he called across the clearing.

Sansa startled. Jaime grunted as her watery grip tightened, forcing air from his lungs. Her eyes widened, and he prayed guilt might make her stupid, but she merely swirled her arms to let him breathe again, peeling the water back from his face. Mentally he calculated the range of his fire breath. With his constricted lungs, the failing light . . .

“As you can see it’s getting dark." The fire in his veins flickered and hissed as the sun crept toward the horizon, greedy for sleep. He made his tone careless, hoping they knew as little about firebenders as he suspected. “And I, for one, could use some supper.”

Sansa studied Jaime uneasily, arms high and graceful in a water dancer's pose. Brienne crossed her arms over her flat chest, clearly still irritated that he’d thrown that first fireball.

He sighed. “If I swear on my honor not to hurt you, will you let me go?”

“ _Honor?_ ” Brienne scoffed. “What honor?”

The Stark girl was too well-bred to show her disdain, but her eyes were scandalized. “You attacked Brienne. I saw it.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt her.” _Much._ Four blue eyes weighed him, judged him. Four blue eyes dismissed him for a liar. “That’s more than can be said for your _honorable_ water dancer,” Jaime pointed out, irritated. “And _you_ , Lady Sansa.” He raised his brow at her, ignoring the sting of his wound. “Didn’t you promise to wrap up this gift I got from her?”

Sansa bit her lip, torn.

Brienne planted her feet and lifted her arms. Jaime had a moment of hope, but it was dashed as water spilled over the bank of the Trident, crashing against his feet like a wave breaking on the cliffs of Casterly Rock. A jagged glacier erupted around him, four feet thick.

“Very honorable,” Jaime said, glowering as she descended on him. “Thank the Seven, you’re safe from the monstrous, mad firebender you’ve spent all bloody day with.”

“You attacked me unprovoked,” Brienne accused. Her breeches gathered mud as she slogged through their impromptu battlefield, but she seemed not to notice.

“You gave as good as you got,” he fired back.

Surprise swelled on her face, and a flicker that might be pride, but it was quickly smothered by a scowl. “Sansa is right. That wasn’t an honorable fight.”

“We can use the dueling grounds next time, if that will appease you. Plenty of masters around to make sure I adhere to the rules of honorable engagement.”

She reached for him suddenly, but Jaime refused to flinch. He wondered if she meant to gag him.

“I didn’t fight honorably either,” she admitted grudgingly, running gentle fingers over his brow. The ice pressed tight against his chest as he blinked up at her. His breathing grew shallow. “But . . .” she hesitated, then dropped her hand. “I _would_ like to duel again.”

His skin tingled where she’d touched it. A trickle of water splashed to their feet. That was the first he realized she’d healed him.

“You can’t leave me here,” he protested as she turned to go. His voice was still hoarse from the fight. He cleared his throat. She hesitated, and he grinned at her. “It’s not honorable. What if river brigands get me? They’re bound to notice a gleaming tribute to the Warrior melting into the Red Fork.”

Brienne glanced at the sky. The sun clung to the trees like a lover, and Jaime's blood sung softly in the afterglow, spent. Her hands kissed the air, and the ice around him softened and smoothed until there was no more than a handspan between his skin and the caress of sunset.

Brienne gathered Sansa and headed for the castle, glancing back at him until they disappeared around a bend in the river. It didn’t take him long to burn through the icy crust. The moon brightened his way as Jaime trudged back to the castle, shivering against a bone-deep chill. He didn’t bother to wash before heading to supper—he’d had quite enough of water for one day. Servants scurried after him, scrubbing muddy footprints from the flagstones.

And suddenly Brienne was there, lit by the glow of the Great Hall, holding a bowl of steaming stew aloft like a supplication to the gods. Jaime accepted her peace offering, too exhausted to argue. He reveled in the heat that seeped into his fingers as he followed her to a table by the hearth, where flames crackled and crooned like dragonsong.

“Isn’t Sansa sorry, too?” he asked wryly.

Telltale heat crept toward her ears, and Brienne bit her lip, debating. “She’s sleeping."

Jaime laughed. “I’d think so.” He felt two hundred years old, tired and achy all over. Sparks from the fire leapt onto his skin in a featherlight caress, soothing his tense muscles. “You’re not.”

“No,” she agreed.

He tucked into the stew. She’d forgotten to bring a spoon, but he didn’t mind. He cradled the bowl to his lips, where the hot liquid seared like a kiss, trailing fire into his chest. Brienne sat quietly beside him, making small waves in her water goblet.

“Haven’t you had enough yet?” he asked when his bowl was empty.

Brienne started. Water sloshed onto the table, curving toward his arm, and she blushed fiercely, scooping it back into her cup.

He laughed at her. “Give me a moment to work the knots from my shoulders. You’ll have the advantage, with the moon high, but I’ll claim victory unless you have Sansa Stark hiding in your pocket.” He raised a brow, cracking the crust of blood she hadn’t washed away. His body protested as he leaned towards her. “Everyone's too busy drinking to arbitrate, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust me.”

She studied her hands, clearly embarrassed. “That’s not why I stayed.”

“No? Did you realize how dull life is without my cutting wit?”

Brienne took a deep breath, and her hesitance sloughed away. Water flowed from the goblet to coat her hands. They glowed and pulsed, as mesmerizing as the heart of a hearth.

“I cracked your ribs with that ice boulder,” she said. “If you let me tend them, we can duel again tomorrow.”

The challenge in her eyes swept him back to the banks of the Trident. Working his tunic free of his breeches, he yanked it up to expose his bruised ribs. He expected her to blush at all that naked flesh, but Brienne didn’t even blink. She eased her palms across his torso, learning the shift of muscle and bone beneath the skin. She bit her swollen bottom lip, concentrating, as firelight danced across her clear blue eyes. A familiar tingle swept across his ribs, accompanied by the soft, fluttering heartbeat he’d always associated with firebending.

There was a sharp, painful twist as bone knitted back together. Jaime grit his teeth, and her hands fell away. Cool air stole her warmth from his skin. He stuffed his tunic back into his breeches, pushing back from the table.

“I can heal muscle pain, too,” she offered, moving to stand. “It’s just invisible tears in the— ”

“That’s good enough for now, waterbender,” he cut her off. “Wouldn’t want you wasting your strength.” 

Water splashed into his empty bowl. Her fingers were long and thick and freckled, as sure in her movements now as she’d been by the river.

“Sunrise?” she asked with a hesitation that never touched her bending. “The west bailey?”

He made himself smile, all arrogant firebender. “Better make it the godswood. Someone needs to ensure you fight honorably this time.”

She made a noise of outrage. Jaime sauntered away before she could send a water whip after him, troubled by the healing that still thrummed in his chest. Brienne may have claimed an odd sort of victory, but Jaime Lannister knew his bending was unparalleled. He’d sleep off this strange discomfit sparked by the waning sun, and when morning graced the world with her face, he _would_ defeat Brienne of Tarth.

He went to sleep dreaming of smoke and steam twined together ‘round a heart tree.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much loved.


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